Maddy
by contagiouschemi
Summary: He was lonely. She was perfect for it. what a coincidence. One-shot.


**Maddy**

He was lonely. He was always lonely. It was a strange feeling to him. He had had the feeling for years but it was only times when he was really _alone_ that he really noticed it. It was when he was really alone when he allowed himself to think of _her_. He allowed himself to think of the bitch who consumed his thoughts. The bitch that he always compared future partners with. No wonder he was lonely at the age of twenty-six. He hadn't seen her for seven years. How could he still be thinking about her after all that time? The other two had other-halves. He didn't, and it was him that was considered the heartthrob. He didn't let himself think of her during his day to day activities. He couldn't because he was so busy. It was from twilight onwards that he thought of her. Every. Fucking. Day. He was so fed up of it. He wanted a life. That's why he still went clubbing and drinking, until the small hours. Funnily enough, everywhere he went at night, he saw her. He even saw her in the place he was at, which was so far away from home. But it wasn't possibly her. He went to the kind of clubs that were for men only, and had ceiling to floor fixtures... The people that went to them were supposed to be sick perves. He wasn't though, he was just lonely. He didn't go because he wanted the attention. God no, he got enough of that during daylight. When he was performing during the night, he couldn't help but find a link between the songs he was singing and her. It wasn't that hard though, most of them _were_ about her. He did write them after all. His thoughts were consumed by her at night time, when he did his best composing.

At night time he remembered everything about her. He remembered how she smelled: flowery with a different perfume every day. He remembered her eyes: wide and brown, with flecks of hazel and light green around her pupil. He remembered her warmth. He remembered wrapping his arms around her curvy silhouette. He remembered her taste: too confusing to explain. He remembered... absolutely everything; some of which could make you think he had stalker-like tendencies and make you think of him as a pervert. He wasn't. He was just...e didn't know what he was; he was blind to his own feelings. He didn't know that his obsession was actually love. It had been for eight years. He'd loved her ever since the fateful day when she told him she loved him and he had said nothing. Yet she had continued to go with their relationship for another year, it was never the same.

Thing was, it wasn't that he hadn't heard from her, no one had heard from her. A few months after their break-up, she disappeared off the face of the Earth. For all anyone knew, she could be dead. It was all very bizarre. It just made his feelings stronger; he liked a bit of mystery. He was too oblivious to notice things right in front of him. Things he noticed, but didn't _notice_. Things he refused to believe could happen. Like that _dancer_, that looked like her...

The other two had gone to their suites, leaving him alone. He decided to act upon it. He picked up the hotel phone and dialled the concierge desk.

"This is Tony, the concierge, how can I help you?" a think English accent came through the receiver. No, he wasn't in England.

"Hi, I'm in room 309, could you do me a big favour? I know you posh hotels don't like to come across like you associate with them, but could you please get me the, uh, best call girl in town?" he didn't want to call them hookers for some odd reason. "There'll be a big tip in it for you."

"I'll see what I can do." Tony said. He could sense the smirk in the guys tone.

"Thank you." He was still going to be alone for a long time, or so he thought. He decided to busy himself. He took a fresh towel out of one of the cupboards and went into the bathroom. He turned the knob on the shower, stripped off his clothes and after waiting for the water to warm up, stepped into the shower. The steady fall of droplets pummelled into his skin. She, once again, took over his head. They used to shower together, in the good days, when they actually had fun. Pointless doing it in a shower though, they just came put less clean than they were before they went in. Lyrics came to him, so he began to sing.

_You consume my mind._

_Everything you left behind._

_I can't take it,_

_No, not one bit._

_Your image, I see,_

_In front of me,_

_Haunting,_

_Taunting,_

_How daunting._

It was slightly darker than what he usually wrote. The normal flowery pop that actually meant something, but no one picked up on it, that was nowhere at that precise moment. Why would it be? After all, he was quite mad at the world. Mad at it for leaving him on his own. He knew who he wanted to be with, even if he couldn't understand why. He was fed up with the shower, so off it went. He stepped out of the bathroom in only a towel, before he heard a knock at the door. She was quicker than he expected. He opened the door to find a gorgeous woman standing in front of him. Her think long hair just brushed past her breast. Her figure was perfect, and he could tell even though she was wearing a coat. She was stood there in stripper heels (cliché much?), a cream trench coat and a black mask. Her hands were in her pockets, and she took a confident stance. She seemed shocked when he first opened the door, but quickly shook it off. She smiled at him. Something about her reminded him of someone.

"Well, can I come in?" she asked with a slight giggle. She knew he was in awe of her, everyone was _these days_.

"Oh yeah, sorry." He opened the door wider so she could enter the expensive hotel room.

"It's quite all right, I'm used to it. You can't be in my trade without having people drooling over you." This was the first sign of her hatred of her job. She had said it with such malice that he was taken aback. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. So, how did Shane gray come to the conclusion of phoning for a hooker? I mean your band has millions of fans that would be dying to sleep with either one of you." He was confused by this girl. She sounded like she didn't want to be there and at the same time she sounded slightly annoyed and jealous of his fans.

"If you really really don't want to be here, you can go if you want. I just called for you because I was feeling lonely and wanted one night of meaningless sex. I'm sorry for this, you probably have a hell of a lot of better stuff to do." He didn't want to imprison the girl. She was probably a hooker because she was broke or something.

"Ha, what, like dancing around a pole with millions of middle-age men staring at me? I think not. I want to find out what all the hypes about my names Mi-Maddy, by the way." Why did she stumble over her name? She stuck out her hand and smiled at him. Her confidence was back. He shook her hand.

"This is the first time I've done this, so I'm a bit unsure -" she cut him off.

"Oh, don't you worry. I'm the best hooker in town; I know exactly what's going to happen. I know exactly how you like it. So lie down and enjoy this." She said seductively. He did what he was told.

He could see why she was the best. She did know exactly what he liked. It was like she was in his head. She insisted on the _Pretty Woman_ rule (no kissing on the lips), which annoyed him; he liked to kiss his sexual partners. He didn't know why she put the rule in place though. He felt so connected to this girl. He didn't know why. She reminded him of someone, so badly. She never removed the lacy, black mask. He didn't understand it, it's not like he knew her. That's what he thought. He felt her shiver as he began to stroke her shoulder. He felt an odd urge to smell her. So he breathed in her hair. She smelled, well, she smelled like _her_. She smelled flowery and was wearing _her_ favourite perfume. She was warm. She was curvy. Something clicked in his head.

"Did you just smell my hair?" she questioned.

"Yeah, I did." She giggled at him. It was a melodic giggle, just like _hers_. What was going on here? Was he imagining it? No, his imagination wasn't that good. He wasn't going to jump to conclusions. He needed evidence. He looked down, into her eyes, framed by the mask. They were wide and brown with flecks of hazel and light green around her pupil. Just like _hers_, exactly like _hers_. Only one more way to tell without getting her to remove her mask or sing.

"Maddy?" It was so weird for him to call her that when he was sure that it wasn't her name.

"Yes?" she sounded like her. How hadn't he noticed it before? What an idiot.

"Can I please kiss you once? You lips are way too tempting." she blushed slightly.

"Uh, I don't," he tried to shoot her some puppy eyes. "Oh, alright, you can kiss me, but no tongues." He smiled at her before slowly pressing his lips to hers. It was _her_. She tasted like _her_, and her lips felt the same. He wanted to take this kiss further, but he needed to work it out. He pulled back and furrowed his brow.

"What's wrong, am I a terrible kisser?" she questioned in a slight joking tone.

"I'm just going to take a stab in the dark here; Maddy isn't your real name, is it?"

"Uh, what makes you think that?" a look of panic crossed her face. Bullseye. It was _her_. He knew he was right from the minute he gazed into her perfect eyes.

"Because I know exactly who you are. That kiss just proved it; your mask no longer hides who you really are."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do. Your eyes are the same. Your body hasn't changed in the past seven years. You still smell the same. I know that it's you. By God, you still fuck the same, you've picked up some new tricks but you're still as amazing as you always were."

"You're deranged. Please pay me, so I can get away from you."

"No, because I'm not going to until you tell me the truth."

"Fine I'll go without you paying me."

"No you won't, because something in you won't let you."

"Oh really, just watch me." She got out of the bed, and started to put her clothes on. He needed to hit a blow that would stop her completely. He had to get her to stop pretending, he was getting quite frustrated with her.

"Alright Mitch," for the first time in seven years, he said her name. "Walk out of my life. Walk out of my life again; blame it on me again, just like you did last time. You've don't it before, why not do it again?" She stopped in her tracks and turned around swiftly. He'd done it.

"It _was_ your fault last time. You didn't fucking care about me, I was just your bloody sex toy!" she screamed. He smirked.

"Ah ha, I knew it was you! Deranged, am I? And I didn't think of you like that."

"Shit, I am such an idiot. If you didn't, then how come you didn't feel the same way that I did, after two fucking years?" He needed to close the gap between them. He needed her to know that he was _there_.

"Because I was a bat." He stood in front of her. He had finally realised his deep feelings. It felt good to be able to understand his obsession.

"Huh?" Not the best time for joking, wouldn't you say?

"I was blind. I'm not anymore." He lifted the mask off her face. "In more ways than one. Everything is so clear to me now." _That_ girl was looking up at him. "I'm not naïve anymore. I love you Mitchie Torres. Always have, always will." My, my, it was quite a night for firsts. That was the first time he had said her full name in seven years. It was also the first time he had aired his feeling for her. He finally felt happy. Well, not happy, per say, but not extremely sad.

"Then why did you never say anything?"

"I was a stupid teenager, that couldn't tell the difference between love and hate. Now were past me, what's with you? I never saw you becoming a hooker. And why didn't you tell me it was you before?"

"It's a long story."

"If I could stop time for you, I would. No, wait that made no sense. I meant to say that I have all the time in the world for you, in a less cliché way." She giggled at him. He missed that giggle. He'd been spending way too much time with Jason.

"Alright, you may want to sit down." He sat on the edge of the bed. She perched right next to him. "Basically after I left you, I felt like I needed to find someone as good as you, to prove that you weren't the best." He looked at her confused. "Sex Shane, sex. That's why I got into this business. You could say that I became an addict. So I left to go somewhere that no one would know me, became part for an agency, and did what they told me to, which included strip clubs." She shuddered. "Now I'm the best this city has to offer. Which brings me here. I didn't tell you, because I thought that one night wouldn't hurt and that you'd forgotten me."

"Me, forget you? Impossible, you are unforgettable. So you're a sex addict?"

"I guess I am." She said and blushed as red as a tomato. She was embarrassed. Definitely embarrassed. It was her best kept secret, a secret she had never wanted to tell anyone. Now she'd told the guy she was sure would take advantage of it.

"How long have you been one?"

"Seven years." She stated without hesitation. He widened his eyes.

"Doesn't that mean, I like, I don't know, turned you into one?"

"I suppose so. I mean even after having three or four clients in one day, I still feel like I need more. Maybe it's your fault though, maybe, I wouldn't feel that way if it was you I was sleeping with. I was basically addicted to trying to find you in someone else. And if that meant sleeping with everyone on this side of America, I would do it. And I did."

"Holy shit, I never thought I had that effect on people."

"Not people, person, you know, singular."

"How do you feel now?" she knew he meant her 'addiction'.

"For the first time, I feel normal."

"Wait, when you say everyone, do you mean _everyone_?"

"Yes, on occasion, clients have asked for threesomes. I hate them, they're worse than the clubs. So don't get any ideas."

"What, I said nothing." He was beginning to have very vivid fantasies though.

"Ugh, you men are all the same."

"Thank you," he said sarcastically. "What would you do to get away from it?" He had an idea. She hated her job, he loved her, and he was hoping she still loved him. That was possibly the only problem.

"I'd do anything. I ate it. I don't know why I'm still doing it after all this time."

"Then give it up."

"But what about my..."

"I think I can help with that."

"You're really confusing me here, could you please elaborate?

"I'm asking you to give it up and stay with me." He said looking into her eyes. "I mean, your addiction shouldn't be a problem. I have amazing stamina. Do you still love me?"

"Yes," she stated simply.

"Then what's the problem?"

"I have people relying on me."

"Who gives a damn? Please Mitchie, please, please, please." She had a pensive moment before she walked over to her trench coat and took out a cell phone. She dialled a number.

"Hey Libby, its Mitchie. I just thought I should tell you that I'm leaving." He smiled in the background. "I guess you could say that I found what I was looking for. I'm sorry, but Belle has been trained by me, she could be the next _Belle Du Jour_, she has the same name. Okay, take care of yourself, bye." She hung up. She walked over to the window, opened it and threw the cell phone out of the window. She was done with that life.

**AN, ok woo. I'm done with the one-shots, I'm going to try to do WLWS now, finally. What did you think, slightly random, I know haha. R&R**


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